


I Am Not Throwing Away My Shot

by Wind_Ryder



Category: 18th Century CE RPF, Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Children, F/M, Family Feuds, Family fun, Games, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Toy Soldiers - Freeform, Trade Millitant, pew pew, pure fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-01
Updated: 2016-08-01
Packaged: 2018-07-28 14:47:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7645150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wind_Ryder/pseuds/Wind_Ryder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In June of 1799, James McHenry sent Hamilton a gift.</p><p>"I received this morning from on board a vessel from London 4 set of military figures for the practice of tacticks one of which I send you for your amusement. It may be made a substitute for the game of chess."</p><p>Hamilton wrote back: </p><p>"I thank you My Dear Sir for the military figures you have sent me. Tactics you know are literally or figuratively of very comprehensive signification. As people grow old they decline in some arts though they may improve in others. I will try to get Mrs. Hamilton to accompany in games of Tactics new to her. Perhaps she may get a taste for them & become better reconciled to my connection with the Trade-Militant."</p><p>_________________</p><p>In which Phil comes home from school to find everyone holding toy soldiers going "pew pew" at each other.  He's drafted to his Mother's side of the war.  </p><p>And the baby is not to be trusted.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Am Not Throwing Away My Shot

**Author's Note:**

  * For [runawayforthesummer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/runawayforthesummer/gifts).



> Based on the letters that runawayforthesummer on tumblr found and are mentioned in the summary.

Breaks from school came few and far between.  But between the new baby and the various pleading letters from his siblings, Phil had found the time.  It’s the letters that had been most concerning.  He’d received no less than three in the past week.  Seeing as how they do not live _that_ far apart from one another, Phil struggles to comprehend why writing three separate letters had been entirely necessary.

But he’d received all three, and from different siblings each.  Angie begging him to come home and attend to their parents.  James telling him that there was a new game being played within their halls and he is _not amused._ Will decrying that Phil must join and be on _his_ side.  All of it explained not one bit.  All of it confusing and bizarre.

Strangely, Phil’s parents had been silent.  Neither had reached out to him about the matter.  He’d cautiously written them a letter asking them about coming by for a few days, and his father had cheerfully invited him over with his usual affection.  His mother had hastily scrawled her name at the bottom of the letter as well.

Usually, she’d sign at least a post-script.  But there’d been nothing further from her.  Which, in truth, was more concerning than his siblings’ bizarre attempts at help requesting his help.  It took only two days to find the time to travel.  He arranged his schedule and started up town to his parents’ home. Whistling even as he did so.

Phil adjusts his bag over his shoulder as he climbs the steps to the front door.  A curtain flutters at the window and he can hear the sound of feet rushing toward the entrance way.  He’s not had a chance to open the door himself before it’s thrown back.  Will holding up a small silver figurine to his chest.  “Pew pew!”

John appears at Will’s back.  She has a toy as well, and she glares at her brother.  “That’s cheating! He’s not been drafted yet!”

James is there, holding his own figurine.  Phil is starting to wonder if it’d be better if he just turned around and pretended this entire encounter never existed to begin with.  He has no idea what his siblings are doing, but he’s not sure he _wants_ to know anymore.  “He’s going to join Mother’s side, you know he will!”

“Well he is _now!_ You just shot him!” John snapped, cuffing Will about the ears lightly.

Phil scowls.  “Don’t hit your brother,” he commands shortly.  John glares at him.  Sniffing loudly and crossing his arms over his chest.  He’s sulking.    

Spitting out, “Which side are you on, Mother’s or Father’s?” as if that makes any more sense.

“I’ve no idea what you’re on about, but let me in.  Where _are_ Mother and Father?” They all point in opposite directions.  Useless.  The lot of them.

Shrugging passed them, he marches up the stairs to his bedroom.  They follow him like a pack of wolves, all of them bickering amongst themselves.  Phil still can’t furrow out what their bizarre game is about, but he’s determined to rescue his parents from their madness if it comes to that.  Neither of them deserve this level of insanity.  They’re far too old to be suffering under their children’s insanity.

He pushes open his bedroom door, and is ‘shot’ again.  This time by a haggard looking Angie who holds up a small figurine.  Her eyes are wild and her hair's a mess.  She looks pale and frightly and she’s aiming the toy soldier at him.  “Pew pew,” she says nonsensically, before aiming it at each of the brothers in turn and repeating her words.

“That’s not fair!”

“What are you doing in here?”

“I’m on your side!”

They all shout loudly.  Phil kicks the door in their faces.  Angie crumples down into his desk chair and sets the toy to the side.  “What on earth is going on?” Phil asks, dropping his bag to the floor.

 _“Your brothers are menaces!”_ she hisses to him.  He goes to her and drops to his knees.  Pulling her to his chest.  She hugs him close and laughs.  “But I got them good, did you see?”

“Got them good?” Phil asks, backing away just to see her face.  “Please tell me what’s been happening?” He turns to inspect the figurine.  Recognizing it at long last.  “Is that...is this the military tactics set that Mr. McHenry sent father last year?”

“Oh yes.   _Father,”_  Angie says it like a curse.   _“Father_ found them again.  Father found them and his copy of his letter, and he is quite pleased with himself.   _Father_ is to blame.”  That explains exactly _nothing_ , and Phil is starting to truly wonder if everyone in this household has gone a touch mad in his absence.

But before he can say anything more, Angie lifts a matching figurine from his desk top.  Clearly she’s been waiting for him in order to present it appropriately.  Pressing it into his hands solemnly, she squeezes his fingers around it.  “You will be joining Mother’s side,” she tells him.  He stares.  She has not yet released his hand.  “And you cannot trust the baby.”

“What on earth are you going on about?”

 _“You cannot trust the baby, she is a monster!”_ With that, Angie stands up.  She collects her figurine, kisses his cheek, and strides to the door.  Pulling it open carefully, she scans the hall before stepping out.  Holding the toy as if it’s the only thing keeping her sane in a house filled with dangers.

Phil stares after her.  He really should have just stayed at school.  Coming home was, clearly, a mistake.

***

It takes him almost an hour to put away his belongings and rally his thoughts enough to track down his parents.  The house is filled with the occasional sound of shuffling feet and shouts of outrage.  They seem to grow more and more frequent as time passes, and Phil removes his letters from his bag to review them.  Eager to find some answer to this conundrum.  

With no further evidence to go off of; he sets the letters to the side, collects his toy, and starts making his way to his father’s study.  It’s the most likely place to find him.  True enough, as he approaches, he can hear his father’s voice.  Slow and steady, but pitched as it always is when speaking to one of the younger children.

The baby, then.  Lizzie’s with Father.  Good.  Phil will be able to understand what’s happening altogether then.  Knocking on the door, he waits.  “Father?”

“Phil?” the man asks.  He sounds breathless in his excitement.  “Come in, come in!” Phil comes in.

Lizzie’s sitting on the floor, father lying on his stomach not far away.  They’ve both got the damnable figurines, and Lizzie shrieks with laughter when she sees him.  Pointing and waving with one hand as she promptly stuffs the soldier into her mouth with the other.  Father leaps from the ground.  Grinning brightly as he hurries over and pulls Phil in for a warm hug.

“You look so well! You’ve grown.  Look at your shirt sleeves, you’ll be needing a tailor yes?”  Yes. Phil blushes and tugs on them a little.  It wasn’t on purpose, but it seems his body’s determined to push him up another inch or so.  He’s taller than his father now.  Clearly inheriting Grandfather Schuyler’s traits more-so than Father’s.

Lizzie is giggling again on the floor.  Waving her hand at Phil.  Motioning _up, up, up._  Phil smiles at her, and goes to oblige.  Crouching down and cooing.  “Look who else has gotten big.  Hello sweetheart,” he coos.  

“I see you’ve been drafted into our game,” Father comments as he kneels down by Phil’s side.  Both of them staring at the little girl.  It takes a moment for Phil to track the comment, but then he remembers the figurine Angie had provided.

“I’ve no idea what you all are going on about, Angie gave this to me? Said I was to be on mother’s side? Her side of what?”

“Ah, so you’ve been drafted for the opposition then.  A shame, I had hoped to have you as well.  You were such a fine soldier.  It would have been nice to have the bravest and most dedicated of you all.  But.  I suppose it’s only right to cede you to your mother. My eldest with their mother, my youngest only with me.”  Father sighs loudly and collects Lizzie from the floor.  “You’ve been supplied the rules of course?”

“I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.”

“It’s the soldiers.  It’s strategy.  You aim and ‘fire.’” Father says ‘pew pew’ again with a ridiculous grin.  Aiming the soldier at him with one hand as he secures Lizzie with the other.  Lizzie giggles and waves her toy as well.  Phil blinks at them both.  Mouth falling open in dumbfounded wonder.  “I’m winning of course.”

“Winning,” Phil repeats.

Father is grinning broadly now.  Bouncing Lizzie to make her laugh again.  She does so with unabashed delight.  “Yes.  Though I do have far more years of experience than you lot.”  Phil feels his cheek twitch.  

Somewhere in the house there’s another scream of frustration.  Angie’s threatening to strangle Will with his own shirt sleeves if he doesn’t stop sneaking up on her.  Mother— _Mother!—_ shouts that Will has broken rules of engagement and will be deducted several points for his attempts.  “You’re conducting siege warfare in our home, Father?”

The Former Treasury-Secretary of the United States frowns at him.  “It’s not _siege_ warfare, it’s more like...guerilla tactics.” He grins.  “By the way, Lizzie cannot shoot properly, but she is _so_ keen on playing.  The laughter counts.”  Phil flinches.

Remembers Angie’s words. _The baby cannot be trusted._

His sweet, innocent, darling, baby sister laughs at him.  “Pew pew,” General Hamilton tells him brightly.  “That’s...seven points to my side then!”

“This means war, sir.” Phil tells his father, waggling his finger in the air.

“Son,” the General sighs.  “It was a war long before you came home.”  Phil backs out of the room.

This requires re-evaluation.  And stronger tactics than he has now.  Time to consult his mother.

***

Mother is sitting in the kitchen.  Angie is at her side.  James as well.  “It all started three weeks ago,” she begins.  She’s chopping onions thinly. Snap, snap, snap, goes her blade against the vegetable.  She pokes it at him, sharp point aimed directly at his heart.  “You will be assisting our cause, correct?”  Her eye is shrewd, and he holds up his hands.

“You know you are always first in my heart,” he tells her.  She squints, as if trying to furrow out some secret motive.  As if trying to determine if he’s here to spy for his father.  But eventually she relents.  Snap, snap, snap.

“We need the baby.”  That, Phil concedes, is likely the most logical choice.  Lizzie cannot be trusted.  From what he’s seen, she laughs at everything, and if each laugh is a shot, then they must turn Father’s most valuable weapon against him.  

He holds up a hand and waits to be called on.  “What precisely are the rules of this engagement?  Surely he must sleep?” It earns him a withering look from everyone in the room.  Right.  This is their Father he’s talking about.  He winces.  “Surely the baby…?”

“We must be swift.”  Snap, snap, snap.  “You will distract him.”

James nods solemnly.  “It will be worth it, to lose you to the cause.”  Loyalty.   _Loyalty_ is clearly a lost concept on the boy.  If he’s to fall in this conflict, then he will do so with pride.  And it’s not a matter of who would be _worth_ it!

“Don’t speak about your brother like that,” Mother chastises her second lieutenant.  She rests her knife on the cutting board.  Leans forward.  “Every twenty shots equals a mandatory change in allegiances.  But! One must verbally acknowledge the transition.  It is why Lizzie is so important.  She is quite clearly on her father’s side of things.”

“How can one tell?” Phil muses.  

His mother sighs again.  Her nose scrunches up in dissatisfaction and she pokes an onion with the tip of her knife.  “She says ‘father,’” Mother grumbles unhappily.  

“She does not!” Angie complains immediately.  “She says _fat._ That hardly means anything.”

“It means enough.”  

Well.  That just will not do.  Phil nods his head.  “I will bring our sister to our side of things.  First things first.  Will and John.  They must be taken care of immediately.”  Mother grins.

“It’s so good to have you home.”

There is nothing, _nothing,_ Phil won’t do for his mother.  Time to bring her house under control.  Straightening his spine he looks to James.  “To war, lieutenant!”

“Oh God,” Angie whines, rubbing at her head.  

“To war, Colonel!”  James salutes.  Angie tells their mother she’s going for a walk with the girl next door.  Please, _please_ be done with this when she gets back.  

Angie, Phil decides, does not know how to have fun.

***

Will is the first casualty in the war.  He’s too simple minded.  With James running one direction, he leads Will directly into the line of fire.  “Pew pew, pew pew, pew pew!” Phil shouts, all but tackling his brother and holding the toy in his face.  

“That’s not fair, that’s not fair, that’s not fair!” Will whines.  He kicks and screams and slaps his hands against the floor.  “Daddy! Daddy tell him it’s not fair!  I don’t want to be on mama’s team, it’s not fair! it’s not fair!”  Huge snot globs are slipping from his nose, his eyes are leaking tears.  Phil has no pity for the boy.

Their father doesn’t either.  “Take your capture with pride!” Father shouts from the study.  “I’ll rescue you soon enough!” Father doesn’t leave the study.  There will be no rescue from him for a while yet.  He can stay in there forever, and he knows full well that as soon as he steps out he’ll be facing odds unsurmountable.  He must barricade himself in in order to funnel their forces.

Phil’s already planning how to succeed from there.  But first, he needs John.  “Stand up, you great baby.  Don’t you want revenge against Father?  He didn’t even help you?”

Will screams in his face and throws his figurine at his head.  “I don’t want to play anymore you’re being stupid!”

“Language!” Both Mother and Father shout from opposite ends of the house.  

“STUPID!” Will screams even louder.  

Mother marches over from where she’d been lurking, plucking Will bodily from Phil’s arms.  She’s smiling serenely as she carries the wriggling boy to his room.  Phil shivers.  He doesn’t envy Will.  Not one bit.  Turning to James he presses his lips tight together and collects Will’s fallen soldiers.  “Now for John.”

***

 _John_ has the good sense to run away from them.  He hits James three times, he manages to get Phil twice.  But there are only so many places to hide in the house, and he’s running out of options.  Cornering himself as he tries to go door to door.  

Phil’s locked all the rooms however, and he twirls the key about his finger as he chases his brother down.  Cornering him as he tries to scramble up the attic steps.  John shoots and ducks and rolls.  “Pew pew, pew pew, pew pew!” He runs out of breath just as Phil dives and catches him round the ankles.  

He knows his siblings inside and out, and what he knows must ardently of all, is that John is ticklish along his sides.  He’s easy enough to break into submission.  Fingers press and poke and prod at the space between his lower ribs and hips.  “Do you yield?!” Phil asks loudly, over John’s shrieks and hollers.  “Do you yield?!”

“Yes! Yes! I yield!”

“Traitor!” Father shouts up humorously from the floor below.

“Your forces are weakening, father!” Phil shouts back.  “Do you wish to submit?!”

“Never!”

Night will be falling soon.  That’s fine by Phil.  He thinks he can sneak into the office while Father is working.  He needs to work at some point.  The baby will be asleep, and that means he can capture the General himself.  With the General defeated the baby will not be a threat any longer.

Phil jerks John to his feet and sends him down to the kitchen for a snack.  He should gather his strength.  Their final assault is tonight.

***

Angie came home and locked herself in her room.  Grumbling that she wanted nothing to do with their antics one moment longer.  Fair enough.  This mission was as much for her sanity as their mother’s need for victory.  

The first wave will include John and James sneaking in down low.  With no candles lit, they may get the element of surprise.  Father will need to reveal himself to shoot at them, and even so they will be able to take enemy fire as need be.  Be the cannon fodder they plotted Phil to be as.

Phil will follow behind, however.  He will take aim when his brothers fail.  As any true General would.  Their mother listens the plan with interest, and nods her head.  Calls them clever, and waves them away.  She will not be joining them in their glorious plight.  

Unbothered by their mother’s refusal to participate, Phil arranges his men and he sets them to their posts.  Whispering furtively as they get into position.  Soldiers at the ready, figurines in the air, they burst into action.  Door sliding open.  Sounds creak and clank in the night.  “Pew pew, pew pew!” shout his brothers.

Lizzie wakes up, clearly having been slumbering, and screams. Phil jumps into position, looks around wildly for their father who most certainly could not have slipped away without them noticing.  He’s been holed up in this office all night, and surely he wouldn’t have left the baby alone.

And hadn’t!

Just as Phil was starting to wonder where their father had gotten off to, out popped Junior. And damn, how had he forgotten Junior?

The fight is glorious.  Junior fires on James and John while running out of sight from Phil.  Lizzie is screaming loud enough to provide ample distraction, and Phil needs to duck to avoid his brother’s careful ‘aim.’  There seems to be no end in sight from anything.  

John shouts as Junior declares he’d reached twenty.  James falls not long after.  Junior is fast and stealthy.  He crawls in and out of sight from Phil and he’s so tiny that he can keep Phil from getting a good shot on him.  Phil’s almost reached twenty himself when Junior declares victory on them all.

Losing only when Angie stomps into the room and shoots him clear in the back with a few “pew pews” of her own.  “Where,” Angie growls out angrily, “Is Father?”

Junior bites his lip.  “I'll never tell!” he cries.

The door opens downstairs.  Both Phil and Angie exchange glances. The office window was open.  The fiend!  He must have clambered out in the chaos to flank them!  But...Phil and all the rest are now _technically_ on their father’s side, and so really he can’t do anything to stop the massacre poor Angie and Mother now face on their own.  Angie turns to assist their mother when—

“Pew pew, that’s twenty isn’t it darling?” Mother asks sweetly.  She’s standing just in front of the door, figurine in her hand.  Father is staring at her, eyes wide and mouth open.  He seems shocked that she’s there, and more so, he seems charmed by it.

His lips twitch upwards, and hers do as well.  Their shoulders start to shake, and soon the pair of them are laughing hysterically.  Giggling like newly weds.  Heads tipped toward each other as Father bows gallantly.  “You’ve bested me at long last, Betsey,” he sighs.  “I have the honor to be your obedient servant, my dear wife.”

“Yes,” Mother degrees fondly, tapping his chin with her two fingers.  “You most certainly do.”

At Phil’s side, John sticks his tongue out and pretends to vomit.  “Blegh, are they kissing?” Phil swats him about the ears.  “But you said—”

“You’re still my prisoner,” Phil tells him firmly.  That’s probably not true anymore, but it hardly matters.  If their mother won, then he’s back on her side and John is still his prisoner.  So there.  “I can do to you whatever I want!”

Mother and Father are still giggling.  Fingers sliding together as Mother looks up to them.  “Phil, be a dear and release your brother from his imprisonment.  The war is won and we can all rest easy now.”

“I have been sufficiently cowed, sir,” Father admits brightly.  He is entirely too pleased with losing.  “Clearly Betsey has gathered a taste for such things and has become better reconciled to my connection with the _Trade-Militant_ …” He says the last part with a waggle of his brows, and Eliza swats him in the side.  Will complains that hitting's not allowed.

“To bed, all of you.  We’ll redraw the lines in the morning.  Please and thank you.  And truly, Phil, welcome home.”  Mother takes Father by the hand and leads him to their bedroom, and John ‘vomits’ again.

Phil has no idea what they’d been ‘fighting’ over to begin with.  He can see no rhyme or reason for any of this.  But Angie sighs a great sigh of relief and tells him he’s never allowed to leave.  The house is far too crazy with him gone.  Frankly, Phil thinks as he goes to collect Lizzie and bring her to bed proper, she has a point.

But at least everyone seems happy enough for the time being.  And considering their lives?  It makes it all worthwhile.


End file.
